


A spoonful of Humility to help the medicine go down

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Consensual, Dom/sub, Face Slapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Omorashi, Quadrant Confusion, Self-Penetration, Sober Gamzee Makara, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 21:49:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1873722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a commission done for my ever so lovely friend prickpocket on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A spoonful of Humility to help the medicine go down

The Veil had been silent for what could be counted as hours. Or rather, it would have been completely silent if not for a certain consistent whimper that was mostly muffled by a lip caught between fanged teeth. It was currently Gamzee Makara making that noise, while Karkat was definitely quieter, his jaw set with a determined air. The touches he gave to the taller trolls pleasure nub were constant and lingering, yet somehow teasing and not nearly enough for the Capricorn. Even though this had been his idea, just like all these sessions before were his idea, Karkat still agreed. Why he agreed was beyond Gamzee. Maybe it just made him feel more in control of the fucked up situation in general, maybe Karkat still somehow saw these sessions as pale. Who knew? And really, Gamzee didn’t want to know the reason.

He’d stayed hidden for what felt like ages, watching from the vents, avoiding mostly everyone. But there was a constant parasite worming its way around his chest, duplicates of it eating away at his newly renovated pan. It was something he could only describe as guilt, and the only person he’d ever admit this to was Karkat himself. The poor fucker deserved at least that much. Since it was, to Gamzee’s thinking, more or less his own fault that his short little moirail was suffering so terribly. And of all motherfuckers he had aimed to hurt, and destroy and watch break under his own fingers: Karkat was not on said list. Yet they both had their parts to play and Gamzee somehow just knew that this was his own. It was how things were.

Which is the whole main reason why these sessions started up in the first place; it was Gamzee’s own way of letting go of the guilt and somewhat taking responsibility for his actions, which he knew Karkat appreciated. But he didn’t derive any pleasure during these meetings, didn’t act on any impulse beyond what had been pre-consented. It was more of an obligation, Gamzee thought with clarity through his addled pan as the touches continued, getting more persistent. Karkat just wanted to return to stability and some form of normality. Gamzee just wanted to be punished.

A quick and sudden slap to his cheek, the sound indicating that Karkat’s palm had connected harder than it really seemed. He still held back when the slaps were dealt out, and Gamzee wished he wouldn’t do that. It took some serious force for him to feel that kind of pain and not smile at how pathetic it was, but he knew better in this particular situation to do that. The slap had been dealt out because he closed his eyes for longer that a rapid blink, and Karkat followed up the slap with a light cupping of the stinging cheek. It wasn’t pale. Or maybe it was. Gamzee himself had never been one for telling these sort of things, but a distinct squirming in his stomach told him the gesture wasn’t as pale as it should have been. It wasn’t quite red; it was more a lightly tinted pink. A mixture of pale and red and Gamzee might have commented to Karkat that this sort of thing would only complicate what was already considered a clusterfuck of emotions.

The only three things that Gamzee could concentrate on at the moment were Karkat’s fingers unrelenting and firm, and the two different feelings building up in the pit of his stomach. One was pleasure and the other, well…

“W-Wait,” Gamzee managed to get out, squirming against the floor as his back pressed to Karkat’s chest. “Wait, brother, I’m gonna-”

“Going to what? Piss yourself? It’s about time.” Karkat shot back, his tone even with a slight edge of impatience. “It’s been hours, hasn’t it?”

Gamzee grunted in return, tried to press his thighs together, earning himself another slap from Karkat. He barely caught the order to keep his legs spread before he followed it on instinct. The action certainly didn’t help the need to go and he gave out a clipped plead, to which Karkat hushed. Face burning with shame, he finally let go, soaking the floor beneath him. Karkat tutted behind him and wiped his soiled finger tips off on Gamzee’s shirt. “Couldn’t even hold it, huh.” He mused, not even really speaking to Gamzee. It sounded like scripted words, fake and with no enthusiasm, but in reality Gamzee didn’t care. He deserved the ridicule, the humiliation. Deserved it all.

“Know what’s coming up next?” Karkat asked as if Gamzee actually didn’t know. The touches to his slick pleasure nub returned, less teasing and more feverish. Within a few moments his bulge had slipped free of its hard sheath, wiggling frantically in the air. Karkat completely ignored the tendril as he ordered Gamzee to spread his legs further. He did. As the bulge sought out heat and stimulation, it found it in Gamzee’s own nook. Within moments the wiggling appendage had buried itself deep and was curling and twisting fast.

Karkat tutted again, the noise somehow heard over Gamzee’s curses and long groans of pleasure. “Look at you.” He said against Gamzee’s ear, his teeth just barely scraping over the shell of his earlobe. “Pissing yourself and then fucking yourself.”

And he was right. Self-penetration in their culture was completely taboo and forbidden; doing it to himself was one thing. Doing it in front of his moirail was another. All the while Karkat seemed to have changed attitudes, or maybe he had been like that all along; Gamzee couldn’t tell. But his moirail’s words were softer, more tender and lingering, coupled with kisses to his temple and forehead that were by no means within their assigned quadrant system. It was all too much, the heat from his nook, the encouraging words from Karkat, the need to do better to prove himself to do anything and everything that the Cancerian wished. It was all far too much.

With a soft cry, Gamzee finished, soaking the floor under him yet again. The strong smells mixed and wafted to his nose, overpowering his senses and slowly his bulge retracted. He gave a choked noise; a sob. Within moments Karkat was leading him to the ablution trap to clean the taller troll up, making a mental note to clean up the liquid mess before it stained. Gamzee let himself be consoled and washed, like all of his past sins were cleared away with each swab of the soapy washcloth. The encouraging words were back, but this time different yet again.

“I’m all kinds of pale for you, brother.”

Karkat pursed his lips, hesitating for a beat with the washcloth before continuing his ministrations.

“Pale for you too, you clown.”


End file.
